


A Face for Radio

by B_does_the_write_thing



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-05-05 17:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5385041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_does_the_write_thing/pseuds/B_does_the_write_thing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night Air's very own wizard of the air waves, the golden tongued Rum Skinner does not need or want a producer especially not one that he finds himself tongue-tied around. Belle French however intends to prove her value one way or the other.</p><p>-Nominated for Best AU in 2015 T.E.A's-<br/>-Nominated for Best AU in 2016 T.E.A's-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a prompt from Rumbelle Showdown. Due to some interest, I've decided to revamp a bit and repost over here.

_Next on SB101- it’s the golden-tongued host of Night Air. That’s right, it’s time for the spinner of the suave, the wizard of the airwaves, our very own Rum Skinner! He’ll be on in just a few but first a quick word from our sponsors-_

“She’s a broadcast virgin.”

The said wizard of the airwaves was currently seated in an office, looking uncharacteristically disgruntled. A smaller man than his listeners usually pictured, he still radiated a confidence and authority that made it very hard to imagine anyone disagreeing with him.

Unless that person was Regina Mills, station manager at SB101. With dark hair, red lips and perfectly manicured nails, Regina Mills looked more like a beauty queen than a manager. While some people had made the mistake of treating her as just a pretty face throughout her career, Skinner wasn’t one of them.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Skinner,” Regina scoffed. “The girl has plenty of experience.”

“At a college station in the middle of nowhere.“

“If she fails to meet your expectations, you can always fire her,” Regina sighed, leaning back in her chair. She was enjoying this. He could tell just by the way her lips were twitching.

“That’s not the point,” Skinner muttered darkly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t agree to this new hire.“

“You need a producer, you scared off the last three.“

“Cowards, the lot of them,” Skinner replied under his breath.

Before they could further their argument, the door to Regina’s office burst open, revealing a frazzled looking man, glasses askew and curly hair starting to grey around the temples. Without pausing for breath, the newcomer started speaking. “Regina, the report’s are in! It’s worse than we expected, we’re actually making money off this!“

“Sidney!” Regina snapped, eyes flashing in warning. “I’m in a meeting!

Sidney looked guiltily away from the station manager to see Skinner sitting quietly on the far couch. With a visible effort to compose himself, Sidney looked back to Regina, lowering his gaze. “I’m sorry, Ms. Mills, I didn’t realize...“

“That’s alright, Glass,” Skinner said, standing smoothly. He brushed off his three-piece suit, eyebrow arched in open speculation at station accountant Sidney Glass. It was no secret that the man was in love with Regina, a fact she used shamelessly to her advantage. “I’m on in ten. You two are welcome to your secrets.“

“Skinner.”

Pausing, Rum turned to face Regina who was smirking dangerously at him over her steepled fingers. “Per your contract, you have full control over the contents of your show. But,” Regina leaned forward to deliver the final blow. “You have no say in staffing. ”

Before he could respond, Regina gave him another sharp smile,” Do give my welcomes to Ms. French. We are all happy to have her join us here at SB101.”

Holding her gaze, Skinner gave a curt nod before turning to leave. He didn’t bother to acknowledge Glass as he slid by him.

Regina settled back into her chair, a satisfied smirk spreading over her features. Sidney watched her warily, not moving from his original spot by the door as he awaited her instructions. “Oh, don’t just stand there,” Regina sighed, waving a hand at him. “Shut the door and tell me what you found out.”

 --

Oh dear.

Belle French was standing as still possible in the small cramped booth off the main studio. The other occupant of the booth, David Nolan, was sitting in the lone chair, nodding along as his DJ finished her set. “Alright Snow,” David said as the pixie haired beauty gratefully popped off her headphones. “Good show.”

The brunette nodded, rubbing the back of her neck as she craned to look out the large glass partition that separated the booth from the hallway. David took off his own headphones, laying them to the side as he started the programmed commercials. Belle was still trying to stay as still as possible. “Okay, so, any questions?” David asked, twisting to look at her over his shoulder.

“Uh, no,” Belle managed. Her cheeks were flushed with nerves, palms sweaty and legs shaking slightly, which may have been from her platform heels but still. They weren’t helping her self-confidence like she hoped they would. “I just wrangle the calls and signal commercial breaks.”

“Yea, Skinner’s set is pretty easy. He’s old school so he likes to pick the music and play it himself, usually has a playlist before he comes in,” David was gathering a few of his belongings as Snow did the same in the main studio space. “You’ll have a lot more calls than you we got during our time since it’s a shorter set.”

“It’s mostly just women calling to propose.” Snow had opened the booth’s door and was leaning against the doorjamb. She had a friendly smile, but her eyes kept straying back to her producer. “You must be Belle,” she said, offering her hand welcomingly. “I’m Mary Margret, although most people just call me Snow.”

Having had the pleasure of listening to her last set, Belle shook her head enthusiastically. Famous child star Mary Margaret Blanchard had used her fame to start up a talk show, Snow & Tell. It was currently one of the most popular talk shows on the eastern seaboard to date, with guest stars from all walks of life calling in as well as regular stories from listeners around the country. It was SB101’s second largest hit, behind Night Air.

“Nice to meet you,” Belle managed. “That was great by the way.”

“Thanks,” Snow said with a shrug. “Easy night, but most people just tune in because they don’t want to miss Night Air.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting Mr. Skinner,” Belle confessed, glancing over at the clock. David was already resetting the panel, getting ready for Skinner’s show. She watched him as she talked to Snow, knowing she would be expected to do the same for the set that followed Skinners. “I just got in town this morning and he wasn't available to meet beforehand...“

Before she could finish, the door to the main space suddenly squeaked opened. All three of them turned towards the sound and found themselves being stared down by the man of the hour himself. Belle had seen Skinner’s promotional pictures during her research before the hiring process began. Silver haired, slight frame with tight shoulders and sharply pointed face, he had what some people might call a face for radio.

Belle had thought him rather handsome.

“Rum,” David greeted. “We’ll be out of your way in just a second.”

With a nod, Skinner made it clear he expected nothing less. He didn’t glance over at Belle, as he made himself comfortable at the panel. Belle swallowed. Hard. Which was difficult on her already dry mouth.

“Belle, you okay?” David asked, turning to her as he hoisted his bag over his shoulder. “I can stay if you want? I sometimes help Rum out when he’s between producers.” Belle shot him a worried look and he was quick to hold his hands up in apology. “Not that you can’t handle it!”

“Yea, maybe you should stay, David,” Snow said, eyes wandering towards Skinner who was already seated. “But I’ve got to get out of the studio before you’re on air-“

“Sixty seconds,” David pointed out. Snow mouthed a good luck as she scooted behind Skinner towards the freedom of the hall. Skinner didn’t even look up at her, just continued to twist his dials and set his tones as he ignored the two of them in the booth. David lingered, looking torn between helping and following Snow.

“I’ll be fine,” Belle decided, waving him away. “I’ve done this a thousand times before.”

“Okay…” David said uncertainty, closing the door slowly behind him. Belle started the countdown, slipping her headset on and getting situated.

“Forty seconds,” Belle counted quietly under her breath, watching Skinner to see if he heard her. David was at the door, looking back at her before letting himself out to join Snow who flashed her a thumbs up before turning and pulling David behind her down the hall.

“Thirty seconds,” Belle counted, trying to keep her foot from tapping nervously against the paneling. Skinner seemed perfectly at ease, flipping a few decks open and adjusting his levels.

“Five,” she warned, holding up a hand to finish the countdown. Her DJ continued to ignore her. She almost stopped breathing. What would happen if her first day she was responsible for dead air?

_“Good evening dearies and welcome to Night Air. I’m your host, Rum Skinner. Tonight, our theme is going to be temptation…”_

Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, Belle lowered herself into her chair. She was careful to keep her eyes on her boards and not on Skinner. She was already flushing from nerves and embarrassment but she had in no way been prepared for the smooth brogue of Rum Skinner or the way he purred into the microphone.

She was in for a long night.

What Belle didn’t realize was Skinner was thinking the same thing.

\--

He had walked in, perfectly ready to lay waste to the mouse they had forced upon him, only to find a beauty sitting calmly in the producer seat, as she had been there all her life.

After that, Skinner didn’t know what happened.

His previously planned theme of “Secrets” somehow became “Temptation” as he tried to keep himself from staring at his new producer. The show passed quickly much to both of their relieved surprise. Skinner was on fire that evening, the call board lighting up like the Fourth of July. Belle handled it with grace, somehow managing to find the callers who actually had something of interest to add instead of the crazies his producers usually passed through for shock effect.

Regina’s offer to fire her was still whistling in his ears as he started to sign off and he had every intention of doing so. Belle was surprisingly efficient but his mind had not changed. He had no need for her. She would only get in the way of his plans and there was no way he could be certain she wasn’t a mole for Regina. Plus, David was perfectly capable of handling another show. He would even make the additional tasks worthwhile as far as salary and benefits.

As Belle slid out of booth, a shy but determined look upon her face, Skinner prepared to thank her for her time and tell her it wasn’t going to work.

“Ms. French,” he began, clearing his throat as he put down his ever present water bottle. Before he could say anything else though, he found two small hands pressing his hands earnestly. He glanced down to find the small hands did indeed belong to Ms. French who was saying something about being a honor to meet him or some nonsense. He barely managed to get his mind in working order as she finished speaking.

“Well, then,” he replied, casting about for the polite but firm words he had been practicing during the commercials. “There’s a coffee shop around the corner, perhaps we could get some tea and discuss tomorrow’s program? You’ll find our cafeteria's excuse for tea is hot water with lemon.”

“I’d love that,” Belle said warmly, and he belatedly noticed she hadn’t let go of his hands. He nodded absently, trying to remember how to speak when he heard the door behind him swing open.

“Hello,” Belle said, turning back to her booth. “Let me grab my things out of your way, and reset the levels for you.”

Rum scowled as the sports duo, Robin and Little John, barged into the studio, throwing a basketball between them and as usual completely ignoring his very existence. “Gentleman,” he sighed, making a beeline towards the door.

By the time he got the hallway, he turned back to find Belle waving at him, lifting one finger to indicate she needed a moment as she talked to the producer of the sports show, a demure woman named Marian, who usually just barely managed to keep the jocks in line for their time slot. Rum only barely noticed he was smiling back at her when he felt his cheeks twitch under the strain. Shaking his head, he tried to clear it of all thoughts of blue eyes, pale skin and rosy lips but all he managed to do was bring it clearer into focus.

By the time, Belle joined him, throwing her pink pea coat on, he was still barely managing to think coherently.

“Tea?” Belle said hopefully, linking her arm through his in a friendly manner. He blinked, nodding as he began to lead the way. As they walked by Regina’s office, he caught the station manager’s eye, watching as her eyes narrowed in annoyed confusion as they swept by. Not a spy of Regina's then, he thought cheerfully, half listening as Belle complimented him on his handling of his last caller.

Good God, he could barely think around her. No, this wouldn’t do at all, he told himself sternly as they exited the studio, heading down the street for his favorite little cafe. No, he would have to tell her this wouldn’t work out in the long run. Just not tonight, he thought to himself, as he pulled the door open. Not after her had promised her tea.

He could always fire her tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Belle wondered if she had somehow strayed into a dream.

It was the only explanation. How else could she be sitting in a perfectly cozy coffee shop on this Tuesday evening, with the smells of espresso, peppermint and honey in her nose and the dangerously addictive voice of Rum Skinner in her ears?

Outside, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. A storm had blown in, rain pattering against the windows as wind rattled the panes. The few patrons of this late night establishment barely noticed, most having headphones on or half asleep slumped over their beverages. Even the barista had disappeared in the back, leaving them in their own little isolated world.

As a girl from the small town of Avonlea, Belle had always fantasized about life in the city. She had imagined everything. From meeting a stranger on the subway or bumping into a celebrity at a bookstore, she had spent hours in her window seat, gazing up at the sky and dreaming of what tomorrow might bring.

She had not forseen this.

Across from her, Rum was still speaking and Belle had to will herself to focus on what he was saying, instead of the way his accent tripped over the syllables or snagged around certain consonants. Inhaling the steam from her second cup of tea, Belle licked her lips, dry and cracked from the weather, and returned her attention to him.

 --

For his part, Rum was having a rather wretched time trying to keep himself together. When he suggested tea, he hadn’t even thought of the time. He had meant to discuss the parameters of her role as his producer and instead wound up too rattled to even address that fact they would be working together. Not one for small talk, he had no real explanation for why he had no interest in leaving and simply had to hope she would do it for him. Instead, Belle had just ordered herself another cup of tea, and was sitting there looking as if she had enough energy to stay here all night discussing the show.

He, on the other hand, was growing increasingly uneasy for another reason entirely. The storm raging outside agitated his old ankle injury. When he finally stood, he would be limping all the way to his car. Belle was the inquisitive sort, and he could already tell she would follow him back to his vehicle, all the while asking him if he was okay while secretly wondering about his sudden limp. He also knew it would hurt like hell tomorrow, it always did after a storm.

So, he kept talking. Hoping she might finally realize it was nearly midnight and that she should get back home before the storm got too terribly worse. Then, he could beg off leaving, say he had a few things to attend to before he headed home. Then, he could wait until he was sure she had gotten to her car before he followed suit.

Except Belle didn’t seem to understand. She continued to sit there, beautiful blue eyes fixed on him over the rim of her teacup, her cupid's bow mouth slightly ajar as she listened in rapt attention to his every little thought on his show’s audience, market and revenue values.

By the time he had dragged out programming performance ratings, he had exhausted every boring demographic he could think of, and she still sat there, perfectly content, looking as fresh as if she hadn’t been on her feet all day. He hadn’t known better, he would have almost thought she was interested in what he had to say, instead of just trying to appear interested for the sake of her job.

He took a sip of his own earl grey, unsweetened and cast about for the next topic of conversation when she asked, “Do you ever wonder about other people’s lives?”

He rose a singular eyebrow at this, taking refuge in his tea again as he tried to figure out what exactly she meant by that. She didn’t elaborate, just simply sat there, pink tipped nails scratching gently against the sides of her teacup.

“Do you mean call-in’s?”

He never really gave those much thought honestly. He knew everyone lied and he could tell within seconds of a caller’s story what they were really seeking. Many of the calls he received were from bored women who wanted hope. They took solace in the programming, the way he would spin two hours of heartbreak and uncertainty into renewal and rebirth. All it took was the right song, he had learned that years ago as a young disc jockey.

Belle shook her head, before slightly tilting her head to the right. He frowned at her, wondering if she was feeling well when her small smirk blossomed into a full fledge smile. He blinked, rather uncertain what he had done to deserve. She leaned in, biting her bottom lip as if to keep whatever she was about to say from spilling out too soon.

He stared down at her, perplexed until she widened her eyes up at him and he realized she wanted him to lean in as well. Feeling incredibly silly, he did so, until their foreheads were practically touching. “See the guy to our right?” Belle asked. He glanced out of the corner of his eye, mostly to avoid from falling into the sapphire pools of Belle’s eyes.

The fact that he even noticed what color they was disconcerting, the fact he was thinking of them as pools was enough to make him consider a brief sabbatical to go get his head checked.

When his eyes lit on the subject in question, he found a normal looking young man. He had on a crumpled button up shirt with a boring tie, and a white jacket thrown across the chair behind him. He was half asleep, chin propped up on his fist as he ignored the large textbook before him.

“I’m thinking,” Belle whispered, and he inhaled the smell of honey and peppermint on her breath and found his fingers tightening helplessly around his own cup. “He’s a medical student. Always wanted to be a doctor but never could afford med school until now. Works a part time job during the day, goes to school in the evenings and studies at night. Very smart, but a loner. Comes to coffee shops in the hopes of meeting a fellow soul.”

Rum turned away from the man in question. “You got all that from just looking at him?”

Belle leaned back in her chair and Rum followed suit, equally relieved and distressed at the loss of proximity. “Not really, it’s just what I like to think,” she said, lifting her cup to sip. He felt his mouth go rather dry and took another sip of his rapidly cooling tea. “That's the fun of it. Now, it's your turn,” she encouraged hopefully.

Taking another look at the man by the window, he took quick stock, noticing what Belle had but arriving at a rather different conclusion. “He’s a doctor,” he began. “Probably a specialist at a hospital judging by his attire, professional but not nice enough for him to care if someone bleeds out all over his shirt. He works hard, plays hard but something recently happened, a loss of some kind. He’s reeling, lost and trying to bury himself in his work. Doesn’t want to go home.”

“Why do you say that?” Belle asked, a concerned look on her face.

“Easy,” Rum said with a shrug. “He’s half asleep at a coffee shop, and the nearest hospital is ten minutes from here. He reeks of whiskey, I can smell it from here.”

“No, I meant, why do you think he's lost someone?” Belle clarified.

The warning bells went off in his head, and he smiled perfunctorily, the one he used for press photographs. “It’s just a game,” he replied. “Right?”

Belle glanced back over at the man and he found himself watching her, noting her features, tracing the fall of her hair and the curve of her ear. After a moment, she returned her attention to him with a small sigh and said,” Well, now I’m sad.”

He nodded. “Reality is often less pleasant than fantasy.”

Belle flushed a bit and he felt his blood freeze in his veins as he tried to figure out what he could have possibly said. “Oh,” she mumbled, letting her hair fall across her face as she looked down at the table. “I don’t know about that.”

\--

“You what?” Snow yelped, covering her microphone with her hand. Belle smiled sheepishly, tugging her too short shirt down a bit to meet her high waisted skirt. Snow had two songs queued and then a two minute commercial break, before her last set which allowed Belle to sneak into the sound booth to watch David for a bit more this afternoon.

“Grabbed tea with Rum last night,” Belle repeated, growing rapidly self conscious. “We just talked about the program and demographics mostly.”

Snow was tugging her headphones off, waving David over to come join them. He flicked a few switches before leaning over to pull the door open, stubbornly remaining in his seat. "What?”

“Rum took her out for a drink last night,” Snow told him, eyes wide.

David nearly fell out of his seat. “He did what?!” he asked Belle, catching himself on the door frame.

“It was just tea,” Belle said defensively, shooting Snow a warning look. “He said the cafeteria tea was terrible so...”

David shook his head as Snow pressed an ear back to her her headset, listening for a moment before putting it back down. Belle felt a little ganged up on, and was regretting even answering Snow’s well meaning “What did you do last night?”

“Skinner doesn’t fraternize with anyone,” David told her. “Hell, I don’t think he’s even spoken to half the staff here.”

“I’m his producer,” Belle reminded him. “He has to talk to me.”

“He didn’t even want you,” Snow said in disbelief. David shot her a warning look. “What?” she demanded. “He didn’t. Half the building knows he was in Regina’s office ten minutes before his show yesterday bitching about firing her before they even met.”

Belle felt a rather large hole appear, her stomach dropping through it. “He what?’

“Snow,” David said warningly, pointing at the switches that were starting to light up. He gestured for Belle to come into the booth and she teetered over, mind racing as she tried to process this information. David shut the door behind her, slipping back on his own headphones as Snow picked up her last call for the day.

Belle, replaying last night over and over in her head, couldn’t understand. Rum had been polite, informative and interested in her thoughts on a range of things. Had he been testing her? Had she done alright? Or was Mrs. Mills going to come collect her any minute to tell her it wasn’t going to work out?

Once she had firmly under hand, David slipped his earphones off and sighed. “Look, Belle, don’t worry.”

“I signed a year lease,” Belle said without thinking. “Bought brand new furniture! I spent all my savings on a work wardrobe- If I get fired-”

“You won’t get fired,” David told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Snow shouldn’t have told you that. Or well, like that. It would have gotten to you sooner or later, this station’s worse than a high school when it comes to gossip.”

“He was nice,” Belle shared quietly. “I thought things went well.”

“And they did,” David replied. “We- I mean- I listened to the show on the way home last night. Skinner was on fire last night, I even turned the radio on when I got inside. I never do that.”

“Really?” Belle asked, feeling needy but desperate for the reassurance.

“Really,” he said with a grin. Belle smiled back, but her insides were still shaking like jelly. “He’s a hard man to please but just keep doing what you did yesterday and you’ll be fine.”

Belle nodded but her throat felt like sandpaper. It wasn’t just that she needed a job, because she did. Desperately. If she lost this job, she’d have to go back to Avonlea, listen to everyone tell her they were right, that the city was too big for a girl like her, that she belonged there, with them in that small provincial town where every day was like the one before.

It was just…

She had thought Rum had rather liked her and now, she couldn’t help but second guess herself. After all, he had been talking about the show, and she had been too busy staring at his lips and wondering what noises he would make when kissed. He had been discussing demo tapes and she had started up a conversation on the lives of strangers.

Belle couldn’t help but feel if last night had been a test, she had failed miserably at it. She’d have to do better today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry no beta so if there's any errors, please let me know and I'll correct. 
> 
> Up Next: Belle deals with the knowledge she wasn't wanted, while Rum tries to figure out what to do about his producer.


	3. Chapter 3

The plan was simple.

Shuffling towards the front door of SB101, Rum ran through it one more time. It had become a mantra of sorts since he had concocted it that morning, and it was the only reason he had been able to make it out of his house.

Step One: Ignore everyone.

Easy enough, he knew. The guard at the front desk nodded him along, without looking up from his coffee and the hallways were clear at this time of night. It had been one of the reasons he had been so keen on a night slot. Most of the office staff were gone by the time he arrived for his show.

Step Two: Be exactly on time, not a second early or a second late.

Down the hall from his office, he could see the On Air sign of the booth. The intercom was playing Snow’s session, which had less than fifteen minutes before she signed off. Which meant he had less than fifteen minutes to mentally prepare for step three. His leg had kept him up most of the night, and was now unpleasantly stiff. It would take him an extra thirty seconds to walk down the hallway to the booth.

Entering his office, he closed the door behind him as he considered the third and final step of his master plan.

Apologize.

Lowering himself into his desk chair, he groaned in relief as the pressure blessedly lifted off his leg. He had been ridiculous monopolizing Ms. French’s time last night, and he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. If they were going to work together, they would have to be professionals, not friends. He hadn’t had a producer in years, preferring assistant producers of other shows to help out during his sets. It kept him distant, singular, aloof from the others and he had a suspicion that no one but Belle French had even dared apply to work with him. If she hadn’t heard by now his determination to fire her before he had met her, she would. This damned place was worse than a gossip column in that regards. Best to get it all out in the light of day sooner rather then later.

Moving to check his emails, he browsed through mostly interoffice communications, pausing briefly on one sent earlier that day. It was the new employee announcement for Belle.

Her employee badge photo smiled up at him, barely dulled by the screen’s muted colors. Her bright smile and excited expression was endearing and he felt himself grinning back at it before he caught himself.  
  
Underneath, there was some tidbits about her history, and he scanned it, having read most of it already the other night when Regina had forwarded her resume. Now, however, he found himself interested in where she had gone to school, which shows she had produced and how many stations she had worked out.

He only realized after a few minutes that he was actually searching for her age. Swallowing, he shook his head free of the thought, scrolling down to see what other information this email possessed on his new producer. There was some mindless information on his show, which he scrolled past in a huff before he reached the end of the email where there was a small “About Me” blurb.

With another glance at the clock, seven minutes left to go, he began to read.

New to the city, yes she had mentioned that. Voracious reader, well that wasn’t surprising but interesting to know. Hopes to travel, of course everyone said that in these things and there at the bottom, a mention of being an equestrian.

Puzzling over this, he almost missed the time. By the sheer grace of fate, an email from his agent came chiming in, subject line: Endorsement Opportunity (DON’T DELETE). He was moving his cursor to do exactly that when his eyes fell on the clock.

\--

Meanwhile, Belle was nervously fiddling with switches, eyes locked on the large clock that hung in the production booth. In less than thirty seconds, Night Air would start. After ten seconds, the intro would wind down and then there would be dead air.

Dead air was the quickest way to getting fired, especially on one’s second day. Snow and David had already disappeared to their weekly meeting with Ms. Mills, a meeting Belle was beginning to dread would be over before it started when the station manager realized Rum wasn’t broadcasting.

She glanced over at her phone, kicking herself for not thinking of getting his number last night. It had seemed presumptuous when she had thought of it as they said goodnight. Now, she would have least been able to prove she had tried to get a hold of him. What if he was in a ditch somewhere?

Or worse, Belle gulped. It was not an uncommon thing in the business for disc jockeys or radio personalities to decide to take matters into their own hands. If Rum had found her wanting last night, this may be his not so subtle hint that things would not be working out. He hadn’t seemed the type, but Ms. Mills had warned her that Rum tended to be...volatile.

The jingle for Night Air started up, and Belle nearly bit through her own lip. Clenching her eyes shut, she made a mental note to book Rum some studio time to record some canned intros and exits just in case she miraculously somehow still had a job after this. Perhaps if she played some ads she could buy herself an extra two minutes, she couldn’t presume to play music, not without knowing what tonight’s theme would be-

Before she could press the button to start whatever ad was queued up, she heard the studio door burst open and a visibly infuriated Rum Skinner dived for his headphone set. Belle jabbed his microphone on just in time for him to greet his audience.

There was a moment’s pause as he caught his breath, and Belle didn’t dare breath as her eyes darted to the switchboard beside her. After the barest of beats, but what felt to Belle a lifetime, he spoke.

“Evening, listeners. As always, this is Rum Skinner. Welcome to Night Air.”

She was slightly annoyed to find he didn’t sound the slightest out of breath.

\--

By the time the show wrapped up, Belle felt like she had run a marathon. The theme of the evening had been secrets, and the calls that evening had been overwhelming. The callers she had weeded through had been disgusting, depressing, and bizarre. She felt in need of a bath and a cup of tea by the time she gratefully handed over the booth to Marian.

Rum had already disappeared by the time she made her way through the studio but Robin and John stopped her before she too could exit. “Hey! Great show,” Robin exclaimed. He tossed his basketball over to John so he could offer her his hand. “Marian told me last night’s was fantastic so I tuned in on my way here tonight. Gotta say, didn’t think anyone could tame that beast. Well done!”

Belle smiled queasily, shaking his hand politely. “It’s an honor to get to work with someone as legendary as Mr. Skinner,” she said defensively, remembering feeling similarly ill at ease with Ms. Mills on her final interview.

“Hey,” Robin said, brow furrowing. “I didn’t mean anything by that. Rum’s a good guy, he’s just prickly.”

“Don't sugar coat it, Robin,” John replied, passing the ball back to Robin. “She out of all of us will learn Skinner can be quite the dick.”

Belle snagged the ball from the air, turning to frown at the other man. “Excuse me, Mr. Little,” she said in her chilliest tone. “I happen to think Mr. Skinner is a pleasure to work with. He’s professional, interesting and incredibly insightful. If he proves difficult to work with, I’m sure I can handle it.”

She heard a tapping on the glass partition and looked up to find Marian flashing her a thumbs up. She smiled back, even as John Little blushed scarlet. “Look, I didn’t mean-”

“On in five! Four!” Marian’s voice announced, over the speaker system. Belle took her leave, hurrying out even as Robin scrambled to his seat. By the time she closed the door behind her, the On Air sign was lit.

Sighing, she leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. It was the first time since Snow had told her of Rum’s protests of her hiring that she had a chance to breath. She had barely been able to focus on Rum’s show, and she felt woozy and uncertain of herself. She gave herself a moment, just a moment, before she peeled herself off the door and headed down the hall towards Rum’s office.

The door was ajar, and the light was on but she paused before she passed it. Part of her wanted to knock, ask him if everything was alright and the other part of her wanted very much to go home, pull the covers over her head and not come out until she had to.

She heard the clicking of keys from the office and with a sigh, she took the extra step into the doorway. Rum sat at his desk, typing with a scowl on his handsome face as he glared at whoever he was emailing.

He didn’t notice her, so after a moment, Belle knocked quietly on his doorframe. He glanced up, startled and when he saw it was her, he shook his head and returned to his typing. “Yes, Ms. French?”

“I just wanted to see how you thought the show went,” Belle said. “I thought things were a little off tonight.”

“Your second day and you can already tell?” he drawled under his breath. Belle, taken aback, did not respond for a moment. She glanced down, fingers fidgeting with the buttons on her coat as she tried to come up with a professional rebuttal when she heard him sigh. “I apologize, that was petty of me.” Skinner gestured her to come in and sit down. “I need to finish this, but it will only take a moment.”

She closed the door behind her, settling down into one of the armchairs on the far side of his office. He had no chairs by his desk, and she felt miles away from him by the time he finished his email.

“Now,” he sighed, looking up at her. “You wanted to discuss the show tonight.”

Belle nodded, not trusting her voice yet. She had been trying to figure out how to word this the past few minutes, but had only been able to focus on the gnawing uncertainty in her stomach. Snow’s words kept echoing in her head. When he lifted an eyebrow at her, Belle realized he was waiting for her to speak. “Yes, I wanted to discuss getting some studio time tomorrow during the day. I think it would be best to get some intro and exit reels on tape.”

“Whatever for?” he grumbled, leaning his elbows on his desk. “Next thing you’ll want me to be doing advertising promotions for the station’s events.”

“I do actually,” Belle snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve been listening to the station all day, and you’re the only personality who doesn’t have a promotion or station recording.”

“Because I have it in my contract that I’ll do no such propaganda,” he shot back.

“It’s career suicide,” Belle exclaimed, shaking her head at him. “You’ve got the best ratings in national broadcasting today, you’re actually tied with top 40 weekend shows in most markets and you’re only ever on for an hour a day Monday through Friday. That’s unheard of!”

“It’s a wide market,” he said under his breath. “People want magical solutions to their problems, you pick the right song, say the right words, they come back every time. Once I start pandering station events or promoting companies, I become no better than the rest of them. You see?”

Belle couldn’t help it. She laughed. Shaking her head, she stood, collecting her things as he sat there, staring up at her in astonishment.

“You can’t really believe that, can you?” she asked, standing by the couch. He scowled, face turning away from her to return back to his emails. It was a dismissal, but it betrayed how uncomfortable he was. Belle sighed, feeling terrible for having laughed.

Approaching the desk, she let her hand trail along the edge of it. “Look, I know we’re stuck with each other, but I had think...if you let us...that we could work rather well together. Just think it over, alright?”

And with a goodnight, she turned and left him sitting there, uncertain how his master plan had gone so terribly, utterly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I'm very excited to share that Face for Radio was nominated for Best AU in the Tumblr's TEA's this year, which is fantastic as this little tale is just getting underway! 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed and thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Belle’s third day went slightly better than the days before.

Rum was on time, the callers were interesting and the show went off without a hitch.

So, she was confused when at the end of their session, Marion pulled her to the side. “Regina wants to see you,” she said quietly, glancing to where Robin and Little John were loitering outside the glass window. 

Rum was taking his time today, packing up his things slower than Belle remembered him moving in the past. They hadn’t had a chance to speak since yesterday, but as if he felt her looking, he looked up and gave her a small smile. Blinking, she nearly missed what Marion was saying.

“Wait,” she said, turning sharply away from Rum. “Regina wants to see me?”

Marion nodded. “She said to tell you to stop by after your show.”

Belle frowned, mentally going over everything that had happened during the show that afternoon. The theme had been Regrets, and while there had been a near miss with a caller cursing, she had handled it with a well time audio clip.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Marion said, patting her arm. “The show was great again today. She probably just wants to congratulate you.”

Belle smiled shakily, and Marion returned it. Rum had disappeared out of the studio while they had been talking, and Robin and Little John were already in their seats, debating which game from last night with which to open the show.

“Try the basketball one,” Belle said, hurrying by. “You can save the hockey game for later, considering they may be making that trade announcement later.”

Little John flashed her a thumbs up, as Robin hurried to grab his earphones. Belle closed the door just as the jingle for the Merry Men died away and Robin started talking about the game tying free throw the whole town was talking about.

Belle made her way down the hallway, looking to see if Rum was in his office on the way by. His room was dark, even the computer turned off. Stifling a feeling of disappointment, Belle hurried on to the station manager’s office.

She knocked politely before letting herself inside. Regina glanced up and smiled cooly up at her. “Ah, Ms. French, so nice of you to join us.”

A man Belle had never seen before was sitting in the chair across from Regina, big blocky ears sticking out of his head. He turned to greet her, his hooded bulbous eyes slightly startling. “Will,” he said,” Will Scarlet.”

“Nice to meet you,” Belle said, taking his hand. He had a firm grip, and a mischievous smile to match his British accent. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No problem, love,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He put his hands behind his head, and leaned back. “Ms. Mills and I were just discussing the weather.”

Judging by Regina’s forced smile, she had not enjoyed it. Belle settled down in the open chair, glancing between the two of them curiously.

“Belle, Will is a DJ from England.”

“Derbyshire,” he interjected, flashing Belle a wink. 

Regina’s smile stayed in place, though Belle saw her eyebrow twitch. “He’s our new morning host,” she continued as if he hadn’t said anything. 

“Nice to meet you,” Belle said, slightly confused. “I’m new here as well.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but Regina beat him to it. “About that,” she said smoothly, leaning across the desk with a machiavellian smile. “His current producer has recently decided to stay in England and start a family.”

“Good ole Alice,” Will sighed dramatically, shaking his head. 

Belle smothered the smile, already warming to Will. “Did you need a reference for a new producer?” Belle asked, already mentally racking her mind for friends who might be willing to relocate. 

“No, actually,” Regina said. “I’ve decided to take you off Rum’s show, and put you over Will’s.”

Belle swore her heart stopped beating for a moment. She shook her head, trying to concentrate. “I’m sorry?”

“You’ll be joining me!” Will said warmly, reaching over to clap her on the back. “How does that sound, love?”

“But,” Belle stammered. “I was just hired to produce Night Air.”

Regina arched a brow. “You were hired as a producer for SB101,” she stated coolly, sliding a folder over to Belle. “Nowhere in your contract does it say you were hired for Night Air. It was simply the one available position at the time.” Belle took the folder, recognizing her job offer. She scanned the paragraphs, as Regina continued. “Now, usually, we would frown upon this kind of lateral move, but Mr. Skinner made it clear he did not feel the need for a full time producer, and upon reflection, we have decided to agree with his wishes.”

Belle felt at a loss. “But the show’s going so well?”

Regina nodded. “And we thank you for making the transition smooth. However, we think it best if perhaps one of the others takes over Night air’s production. An hour a day isn’t much, and David Nolan has filled in in the past.”

Will leaned over, catching on that she was not thrilled about this development. “I know Night Air’s very well respected,” he said quietly, licking his lips nervously. “But I promise, I have every intention of taking the morning show to the top of the charts. I looked over your proposals for Night Air, sponsorships, endorsements, and all. It’s a great plan, and I want you on my team.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Belle assured him. “But-”

“Well, then, it’s settled,’ Regina declared, standing abruptly. “Ms. French, Mr. Scarlet, you best get home and get some sleep. You’re due back here at four in the morning.”

Belle couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something, but she stood and made her way out with Will. Regina closed the door firmly behind them, leaving them standing in the hallway, staring at each other.

“I’m still on London time, myself. How about a drink?” Will offered, clapping his hands together. “Cheers to the new partnership?”

Belle felt rather discombobulated, embarrassment burning in her chest. It was obvious that Rum had gone straight to Regina, and demanded her off his program after her overstepping her boundaries last night.

Swallowing roughly, she nodded. “Let’s,” she agreed and, with Will’s goofy smile as encouragement, headed out to celebrate. 

\--

Meanwhile, in the same coffee shop he had taken Belle the previous evening, Rum sat down to his least hated meeting of the week.

“Hey there’s my favorite radio personality,” Jefferson exclaimed, bouncing over to him like a child in a trampoline park. He grinned down at him, face twitching slightly from his caffeine addiction. “Red hot show today, Rum. Red hot!”

“Keep your voice down,” Rum said resignedly, pushing the chair out for him to sit. “I got you decaf.”

“Decaf?” Jefferson laughed, but he picked it up and drank it anyways. 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Rum sipped his own beverage, looking around the shop. He didn’t really understand what he was looking for until he found his eyes lingering on a brunette by the door. 

“Earth to Skinner?”

He returned his attention to Jefferson who was grinning at him. “Got something on your mind?” he asked him with lazy glee. “Or someone?”

Rum shook his head, banishing Belle and her blue eyes to the back of his mind. “Nothing,” he lied. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

Jefferson shrugged, and pulled a crumpled up piece of paper from his coat. He tossed it on the table between them. “You were right,” he said. “I made some calls. SB101 isn’t making as much money as they’ve been reporting. There’s something fishy going over there.”

Rum cursed under his breath, picking up the paper and scanning the contents. Jefferson represented most of the talent over at Sb101. He had listed most of their earnings and then next to it, a column estimating the running costs of the station and the ad revenue. 

The numbers didn’t add up.

“Who’s William Tell?” Rum asked, name catching on a name at the bottom. 

Jefferson shrugged. “Just heard they hired a new guy for the morning show, a brit named William Scarlet,’ he said, but his agent laughed when I asked if he was making that much. “Looks like a fake name to me.”

Another name, Gene E. was circled with Jefferson’s writing next to it. 

“No idea about that one either,” his agent said with a shrug. “Thought you might have heard of them?

 

Rum shook his head. “I’ll ask around,” he said. “They might be licences.”

Jefferson nodded. “Well, speaking of asking around,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “What’s this I hear about you having a new producer?”

Rum, prepared for this, answered smoothly. “Young girl, fresh out of college,” he said with a half shrug. “Smart, and while inexperienced, she has good instincts.”

Jefferson wiggled his brows. “Pretty?”

“Don’t see what that has to do with it,” Rum grunted. “She’s good at her job.”

“So, you like her?”

Rum didn’t like the way Jefferson was grinning at him but he nodded. “I can’t complain,” he said, thinking about the look of utter determination on her face during the show, or the way her eyes lit up when she was challenging him or the soft way her mouth went when she was listening to him speak.

As if summoned, the very woman he was thinking about walked by outside at that exact moment. Rum straightened slightly in his chair, Jefferson turning to look at what had captured his attention.

She wasn’t alone.

Beside her, a tall young man walked. He had an odd face, a face for radio, as people often joked but it was clear from even this distance he was charming. Everyone around them kept shooting the pair glances, one woman even stopping completely to stare after him wistfully. 

“Who’s that?” Jefferson asked, peering after the pair. “Someone you know?”

“No,” Rum spat, turning to glare at his tea. “Just another couple.”

Jefferson wisely changed the subject to a possible endorsement deal, Rum ignoring the entire pitch as he knew full well he was going to say no anyways. 

He more important things on his mind.

Like how Belle had managed to meet someone within three days of moving there, and why he was so annoyed by it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, this is NOT going to be a love triangle.
> 
> However, miscommunication is a bitch, but hopefully, it will be quickly resolved in a chapter. (or two.)


	5. Chapter 5

Waking up at four am was a bitch.

Belle rubbed sleep out of her eyes and tried to focus. Will seemed completely at ease, chatting pleasantly about some hijink that was probably illegal in four different states. 

“Woke up completely naked, with my twig and berries at half mast and a new tattoo of a white rabbit. And that, dear listeners, is why I prefer Twinings.”

As Will cued up his latest music set, he winked at her and she silenced their microphones. She double checked it twice, before nodding at him.

“Whew,” he said, leaning back and kicking his feet up on the table. “How’s it going, do you think?”

“It’s great,” Belle told him. “Though I’m a little jealous, you don’t sound at all tired.”

They had stayed out until almost midnight, discussing plans for the show. Will had not seemed a bit jet lagged, and had been keen to pick her brain on American radio over drink after drink. For her part, Belle had been content to work (and drink) all evening, if it meant keeping her mind off Rum Skinner. 

Will nodded mischievously. “Trick is not to go to sleep,” he said with a wink. “Any chance I have enough time to run down to the caf for a cup of tea?”

Unbidden, a memory came to mind. Belle could almost taste the tea in the little cafe down the street, the cozy feeling of being in a rainy cafe with an interesting man…

“Belle?”

She jerked back to attention, and shook her head. “Sorry, probably not, but the tea’s rubbish here,” she said with a shrug. She did not mention the cafe. For some odd reason, she didn’t feel like sharing that place with Will, despite enjoying his company immensely. He had been charming, attentive, and respectful but she didn’t feel drawn to him like she had been to Rum. 

“I’ll have to bring my own then,” Will sighed, flicking through his cell phone. “We’re getting a lot of hits on twitter and Facebook, how’s the Instagram contest going?”

The morning show’s four hour program always had ticket contests, and this morning, to celebrate Will’s first show, they had run a huge promotion. A VIP experience at one of the largest music festivals in the country, and they had over a thousand comments on Will’s picture with an hour still to go.

“I don’t know how you’re going to weed through all these,” Belle confessed. “It’s at a thousand and four hundred and twenty two- twenty three-twenty four!”

Will rubbed his hands together. “That’s why I have you,” he said, placing his hand over his heart. “My gal Friday.”

They’d be here all afternoon. Resisting the urge to yawn, Belle pointed to the microphone, and Will nodded. She unmuted his mike and he greeted his listeners, reminding them of the big contest and welcoming those just tuning in. He was a natural, Belle could see that. Destined to be a great DJ, and a producer’s dream to work with, plus he was a generally great guy.

So, why was she so disappointed? 

\--

“Mr. Skinner?”

The security guard gaped at him, looking behind him to the still sunny sky. It was not even noon, and Rum felt a small twitch in his cheek as he scowled up at the man. “Is there a problem?” he sneered, crossing his arms. 

The security guard rapidly shook his head. “No, sir, sorry sir, I’m just not used to seeing you...so early.”

In response, Rum raised his brow. The oaf hurried to wave him through, casting another odd look at him as he went by. Rum ignored him, as well as the other idiots who stopped short as he walked by. He had to clench his fist as one accountant tapped his fellow, and actually pointed at him like he was some sort of freak in a side show.

This was why he didn’t do endorsements, he thought bitterly. He hated this side of it, this celebrity status that he had never wanted or asked for. He shut his office door forcibly, shuffling over to his desk before someone alerted Regina he was here.

Despite his night owl slot, he was as much as a morning person as anyone. He didn’t need much sleep, and usually spent the day planning his show. Today, he had a slightly different plan in place.

As a producer, Belle was expected to work on the various advertisements throughout his segment, which meant she had to be at the station for the latter half of the day for a few hours. He glanced at the clock. He had timed it so he would just be leaving as she arrived, a perfectly accidental happenstance, in which he might ask her for a late lunch. 

To discuss endorsements.

He internally cringed, but he had thought about it all night. Jefferson had been hounding him for years to accept some endorsements, but he didn’t trust his agent further than he could throw him. Not out of anything shady, it was just Jefferson was as easily distracted as a puppy. He was a great networker, had an eye for talent and in his case, could care less what he did as long as he got his commision.

He would kill two birds with one stone. Agree to something that would make both his producer and his agent happy, and spend some time with Belle. He had even looked up some rather interesting equestrian articles to discuss over lunch. She might be seeing someone, and he probably didn’t have a chance in hell to begin with, but he had decided to make this partnership work. And if a partnership became a friendship, well. He could live with that. 

He logged onto his computer, planning to at least make the most of his time stuck in his office. He had a few ideas for the evening’s show, but had not made any decisions yet. For some reason, he had been fixated on Jealously as a topic, one he had always carefully avoided in the past. 

His phone rang, nearly startling him out of his skin. Throwing it a death glare, he fished it off the cradle. “What?” he demanded, after checking the name on the caller ID. 

“My, my,” Regina cooed back. “This is a surprise. Rum Skinner in the building before noon.”

“I had some things to take care of,” he said blandly. He flicked through the rest of his emails, ignoring a new announcement hire for someone named William Scarlet.

“Well, why don’t you stop by my office for a moment?” Regina continued. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Can it wait?”

She laughed. “I think not.”

Without another word, she hung up and his fingers tightened unpleasantly around the phone. She was pleased with herself, he thought. Never a good sign. With a sigh, he picked himself out of his seat, and headed towards the studio manager’s office. 

As he opened his door, the overhead speakers played the last few chords of a rather obscure British rock band he faintly remembered from his youth. It caught his attention enough to decide to walk by the studio booth. He faintly remembered the morning show had recently hired new talent, though he couldn’t remember if he had met the new team yet. 

Perhaps that’s why Regina wanted him to come to her office. She always loved getting to trot out their biggest DJ to the newcomers, show off what they could become. He squared his shoulders and headed the long way around, Regina could wait long enough for him to get a glance at the new morning disc jockey.

Before he arrived, an English accent came on the speakers, jovial and pleasant. Even Rum had to admit it was an excellent choice for a morning show host. He quickened his pace slightly, as there was less than five minutes left in the segment and even know the host was saying his goodbyes.

Rum barely made it to the booth before the show’s end, coming to stand beside the lunch time request host, Ruby Lucas. “Skinner!” she said in surprise, turning from the glass booth to stare at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Meetings,” he lied, taking the opportunity to look in at the new guy.

He was British alright. He had pale skin, hooded eyes, and a shock of black hair that didn’t hide his oversized ears. He was also the man Belle had been with the night before.

A very tight squeezing sensation emanated in his gut and Gold watched his reflection change from passive interest to a cruel sneer. Ms. Lucas took a step back, even as the DJ caught the two of them watching. He waved merrily, ignoring Rum’s glare as easily as he ignored the usual jaw dropping beauty of Ruby Lucas. 

Gold looked away from him towards the producer booth and to his surprise found Belle staring back at him. He blinked and she looked away, keeping her eyes glued to her board as Ruby slipped into the booth.

He didn’t move. She had to come out of there sometime, and he heard more than saw Ruby’s producer, Leroy, move past him, grunting something unpleasant as he hurried into the booth. Gold continued to watch as Belle greeted Leroy, indicating a dial that must be malfunctioning judging by their equal looks of displeasure. 

Leroy took the headphones, but Belle did not move to leave. She lingered by the board, as if she planned to stay there for the show. Before Leroy could kick her out, the Englishman gestured for her to join him. 

A million unpleasant terrible rude things came to his tongue. He could comment on her sleeping with her talent, flirting with a coworker, hopping in bed with a man she just met- but at the heart of it, he was just jealous it hadn’t been him.

He swallowed, and turned away. Before she could exit the room, he moved past the door and onto Regina’s office. He had better things to do.

“Oh, there you are,” Regina said, looking up from her desk as he swung her office door open. “Come in.”

Unnecessary, considering he was already sitting down by the time she said that, but a typical Regina comment. “What did you want to see me for?” he asked, his mind on the producer down the hall. 

“About your producer actually,” Regina said, and he had to curl his fingers around his chair to prevent himself from leaning forward. “You’ll be pleased to learn we moved Belle French off your show and onto another program.”

He stared at her.

“I thought you’d be pleased?” Regina fished, flashing him that noxious smile of her’s. “You did say you didn’t want a producer, correct?”

“Ms. French is no longer...working with me?”

Regina shook her head, her hair barely moving. “No, we moved her to the morning program, which just wrapped up incidentally. Perhaps you saw her?”

By the canary eating grin on her face, she knew he had. He made a mental note to find out exactly how she always knew exactly what was going on in the building, before smiling tensely. “I did hear that,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Who will be replacing her?”

Regina’s smile broadened. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said, her voice sickeningly sweet. “My sister is actually a huge fan of yours and she suggested a wonderful idea.”

Selena. He internally shuddered.

Selena was Regina’s half sister, and he had been avoiding her and her hands at every company party for as long as he could remember. “Pray tell,” he said through pursed lips.

“Well, as you are so fond of telling me, you don’t really need a producer, anyone could do it. So, David Nolan will take over your advertisement placements, but we’ll have a regular contest for a special listener to win a chance to come and be the producer on your program!”

There was an odd ringing in his ears, and he wondered faintly if he was having a stroke.

“Isn’t it great?”” Regina crowed, folding her hands on the desk. “I knew you’d love it.”

“Regina,” he managed, shaking his head to clear it. “That’s asinine.”

“It’s a way around that little endorsement deal of yours,” she corrected him. “No meet and greets, no autographs, no nothing. Well...you don’t have anything in your contract about staffing, as we recently reminded you.”

“This is insanity!”

“Now, now,” Regina scolded, enjoying this way too much. “We have decided to have a rotation of our other producers on hand in the booth. They’ll just be sharing it with the weekly winner.”

He had a mental image of David Nolan wiping caked makeup off a headset, or Marian cleaning up spilled wine. He did rather enjoy the notion of Leroy locked in a booth with a housewife, and watching Belle’s face as she tried to help out one of the criers that would undoubtedly win-

“So, it’s settled,” Regina said, standing from her desk. “Now, if there’s nothing else?”

It was only Wednesday and Rum had the strangest sensation that things were only going to get worse from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now that we got that cleared up, we can focus on Rum's new problem, Belle's new gig, and oh yea, that boiling sexual tension still needing to be resolved.


	6. Chapter 6

Her third day at Storybrooke 101, and Belle could barely keep her eyes open. Beside her, David nudged her slightly, and she straightened just as Regina strolled into the room. The studio manager was late for the last minute meeting she had called, and everyone was visibly annoyed.

“Thanks for clearing your schedules,’ Regina said, moving to the front of the room. Belle sat more upright, and noticed Leroy doing the same. He caught her eye and winked and she smiled tentatively back. She was still brand new, and there were still a few faces in the room she had not met yet. “First of all, if you have not met our latest producer, Belle French joins us from Avonlea. Belle?”

Caught off guard, Belle sat immobile in her chair. David cleared his throat, and when that failed to motivate her, he leaned over. “She wants you to stand up,” he whispered, and Belle shot up like a weed. 

“Um, hi,” she said, offering a awkward little wave. “I’m Belle. Belle French and I’m the new producer of Night Air. I mean- the Morning Show.”

Regina had a very unpleasant smile on her face, and Belle hastened to wrap this embarrassment up. “I’m very happy to be here, and if there’s anything I can do, please let me know.” She sat back down, putting a hand over her face in morbid humiliation. David patted her on the back, as Regina took back over the meeting.

“Is this a meet and greet?” someone demanded from the back of the room and Belle turned around to find a rather disgruntled woman standing against the wall. “I was under the impression this was an urgent staff meeting.”

“Mal,” Regina greeted the annoyed older woman. “Thank you for joining us.”

“Mal’s the afternoon producer for Ella De Ville and Ursula La Mer,” David whispered. “The Queens of Mean.”

“My team is on air without a producer,” Mal replied heatedly. “Could we hurry this up?”

“I believe there’s an intern watching the board,” Regina said, drawling out the thought. Belle twisted back around before Mal got her gawking at her. Leroy had his arms crossed, clearly enjoying this byplay, and beside him, Marian looked worried. “Everyone else has taken the time to be here, and you don’t see any of them complaining.”

Belle bit her lip. They all had been, up to the minute Belle had dozed off. No one had been sure what the meeting was about, or why the talent had not been included. Will had skipped off to explore the town some more, Belle mercifully getting to beg off due to the meeting. All she could think about was her bed. That and who in the room would replace her on Rum’s program.  
It was stupid to be jealous, but her pride was more hurt than anything. She had really thought there had been a connection...or at the very least a mark of respect. In the two nights they had worked together, the show had been great, everyone had said so. So, if it hadn’t been her workmanship...it had to have been her personally. 

“Now, to the matter at hand,” Regina was saying, clapping her hands together. “As some of you may know, Storybrooke 101 is in the midst of some management changes.” At this, everyone muttered something under their breath except an older gentlemen who sat impassively in the corner. “You’ll all be pleased to learn that as of yesterday, Albert Spencer has purchased the entire company. We are now an entity of Midas Radio Network.”

The muttering grew much louder, and even David looked disgruntled. Belle couldn't help but notice even Regina did not look entirely pleased at this news. 

“He’s a parasite!” Leroy declared, standing up from his seat. “He bought 96.5 the Forest and 99.9 the Castle and both were chopped up and sold off within the year!”

Regina held her hands up. “Everyone, everyone calm down. This is a good thing! We now have an entire network supporting us, and that is a testament to your work.”

“So, why weren’t we consulted?” the older man asked. “Some of us have shares in the company, a major corporation take over seems like something we should have been at least told about.”

“Major shareholders were,” Regina said smoothly, “and they all voted for the acquisition. I myself voted against it...but was out voted.”

David shook his head, but Regina was wrapping things up. “You all will receive an email announcing the acquisition later today, and I will be meeting with the talent as requested. Now, the last order of business is Night Air.”

Belle fidgeted as David and Marian looked at her, puzzled. 

“As many of you know, Mr. Skinner has his own...rules when it comes to his program. We have decided to accommodate his request to not have a full time producer, and instead will be setting up a revolving schedule between the lot of you.”

“Revolving schedule?” David said, shaking his head. “How’s that going to work?”

Regina shot him a pleased look. “Glad you asked,” she practically purred. “Each week, a producer will be asked to spend one hour in the booth with the weekly winner of our newest sweepstakes- Perchance to Dream, a weekly contest for a lucky listener to spend the week with Rum Skinner himself during Night Air”

Everyone looked uncomfortable. “You’re going to pimp out Skinner?” Mal snorted. “How in the world did you manage that?”

“He’s been alerted to the change this morning. He’s very excited to announce it this evening.”

“Like hell he is,” Mal snorted. “He’d quit before he sit in a glass booth and be stared at like an animal.”

David had a thoughtful expression on his face and he leaned over while Regina glowered at Mal. “Did you know about this?”

Belle nodded hesitantly. “A bit. I got moved to the Morning Show last night after Night Air wrapped up,” she told him, keeping an eye on Regina. “I just figured Rum had requested to move me off the show.”

“Night Air’s the biggest money maker on this station,” David said, shaking his head. “It just doesn’t make sense. Any producer shifted to Night Air for the week will be annoyed, tired or overworked as is. Add a crazed fan, and believe me, the winners are always crazed, and the program will go so far off the rails even Skinner won’t be able to keep it on track. If he even stays on after this.”

Belle glanced up at the clock. It was nearly five, four hours left until Night Air came on. She wondered if Rum was still in the building or if he had left already. 

“Now, as we are still working on the schedule, I’ll have to ask for volunteers for today, tomorrow, and Friday’s show,” Regina said, looking pointedly at David, Marian, and a strange, sleepy young man Belle hadn’t met yet.

“I’ll do it,” Belle said, without thinking. 

For a minute, Regina appeared speechless, though she quickly recovered. “Ah, Ms. French,” she said, moving to loom over Belle’s seat. “How kind of you.”

“It’s not a problem at all,” Belle said quietly. “I’m very proud of the work I’ve done so far on the program, and I think I should be able to finish out the week at the very least.”

“Applaudable commitment,” Regina replied, though it sounded more like a threat than a compliment. “However, as the newest member of our team, and the morning show producer, I think perhaps a more senior member might be better suited.”

“I’ll do it,” David declared, and Regina shifted her icy smile to him. “I do want to make it clear, I think Night Air needs a full time producer. Skinner’s always been opinionated on having his own way, but none of us will be able to work on the day to day management of the program. We have our own to worry about.”

“No need. I will be handling Night Air myself,” Regina said. “Now, if there are no more questions, that’ll be all.”

\--

Rum swirled his whiskey around in his tumbler. His program notes were laid out before him, the topic Resentment scrawled on top of each of them. He’d be announcing Regina’s little pet project this evening, and he wanted to be sufficiently drunk to do it.

Quitting was not an option. He had worked too hard for too long to pack up everything and go home with his tail between his legs, beaten at his own game by Regina Mills of all people. Besides, he couldn’t move. Storybrooke had been where Neal had grown up...where he was buried...Skinner had turned down plenty of positions over the years because he refused to relocate. 

He took another long drink of his whiskey, trying to drown the voices in his head. He swallowed, inhaling sharply as he reached for the bottle of whiskey beside him. It had been mostly full at lunchtime, and now was dangerously close to empty. 

A knock at the door barely fazed him. He released his hold on the whiskey and lowered his tumbler out of site behind the desk. “What?” he demanded, scowling at the closed door. 

Without invitation, the knocker opened the door, and slipped inside. He opened his mouth to yell something unpleasant when he realized it was Belle. As he closed his mouth, her’s fell open as the smell of whiskey hit her square in the face.

“Rum!” she gasped, hurrying over to him. “You’re drunk!”

He smiled hazily up at her, raising the tumbler up to toast her. “You’re not wrong,” he slurred, frowning slightly at the empty tumbler. “That’s no good,” he muttered, reaching for the whiskey bottle.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Belle said, grabbing the bottle off his desk. Without hesitation, she threw it in the trash. 

“Hey!” he yelled, and tried to lean over to grab for it. This ended up poorly, as he was suddenly on the floor, blinking at Belle’s shoes. 

“Oh, for goodness’ sakes!” Belle exclaimed, but she was gentle when she pulled him off the floor. He went with it, for despite the comfort of lying horizontal, Belle smelled rather pleasant and she seemed determined to move him. With their combined efforts, he collapsed on his couch, as Belle hurried to lock the door. She sat down on the couch beside him, sighing as she let her eyes close.

He stared at her for a moment, noticing she looked rather tired. Some part of him felt bad, and he struggled to sit upright, reaching out to pat her shoulder awkwardly. “It’s alright,” he said, struggling to sound as coherent as possible. “It’s just a little whiskey.”

“A bottle of it, by the smell of it,” Belle said tartly, but she looked over at him. He smiled and the corner of her lip twitched. “Do you do this often, Mr. Skinner?”

He shook his head. “Rum,” he insisted, swinging his legs onto the floor. The spins were making themselves known, and he shook his head as he tried to plant himself firmly in the here and now. Beside him, Belle toed a small decorative bin towards him in the off-chance he might be sick. “I’ll have you know,” he said, shooting her a baleful look. “I have never thrown up from drinking in my life, ever.”

At this, Belle did smile. “It actually might help,” she said. “I’ll go get you some coffee from the cafeteria, and a sandwich or three.”

“One for you?” he asked hopefully. 

Belle pursed her lips at him, but there was laughter in her eyes. “You are a flirtatious drunk, Rum Skinner.” He shrugged, but ended up slumping forwards, ending up in Belle’s lap. She laughed, but did not push him away. “Why in the world did you start drinking at noon?”

“Liquid courage,” he mumbled, as he tried to sit upright. Belle’s hand descended on his back, and in the next second, she was smoothing his hair. He laid absolutely still, enjoying the feeling and fighting back the increasing urge to be sick. He let his eyes drift close, just for a moment. 

“For what?” Belle was asking, but he was too far away to reply. 

\--

An hour before air time, Belle snuck back into Skinner’s office with a bag from the cafe down the street under one arm, and two coffees in her hands. Overhead, Mary Margaret was talking, encouraging listeners to stay tuned for Night Air and an exciting announcement. 

Rum was right where she had left him, passed out on his leather couch. She took a moment to admire the relaxed lines of his face, the oddly intimate way he looked without his jacket or tie on, and the silvered brown hair strewn over the pillow. Most listeners of Night Air would sell their eyeteeth for a picture of this, and Bele let herself enjoy it for a second longer than she should.

However, he had a show to do, and she had some things she wanted to talk to him about. 

“Rum,” she said quietly, moving over to shake him softly. “Rum, it’s time to wake up.”

A brown eye cracked open and stared up at her. For a moment, it looked confused, and then, Rum shot up like a jack in the box. “What time is it?”

“Calm down,” Belle said, hushing him with her hands. “It’s an hour before you have to be in the studio. Here, drink this.” She shoved a bottle of water in one hand and a coffee in the other.

He looked down at both of them. “I don’t drink coffee,” he said after a minute.

“Tonight you do,” Belle said testily. “You decided to get drunk as a skunk, and you need to sober up fast.” He winced, but took a hefty swig of the coffee. Belle was glad it had cooled off in the short walk, and fished out the sandwich she had gotten him. She tossed it into his lap. “Eat.”

He grumbled something, but put the coffee and water down to tear at the sandwich wrapper. 

“Do you do this often?” Belle asked him, as he took a large bite. 

“Do what?” he asked between bites.

“Get drunk in your office on a work day.”

She had been alternately angry, confused and disappointed ever since she had stumbled into his office to find him inebriated. He had been so belligerent he had passed out in her lap, and though endearingly adorable intoxicated with his usual walls down, Belle did not know him well enough to determine if this was a once off situation or a weekly occurrence. It would explain his distaste for producers. No one would willingly work with an alcoholic. 

As if he knew what she was thinking, he put down the sandwich. “I’m not a drunk,” he said, and from the way he held her gaze, Belle believed him. “I had a rather...interesting day and I...I took it poorly.”

Belle took a sip of her own coffee. “Did you ask for me to be moved to the Morning Show?” He stared at her. “Eat,” she reminded him, and he hastily took another bite before answering. 

“I did not,” he finally said. “I was informed of the move this morning, after you had already finished your show.”

Belle nodded, sighing in relief. “I thought- never mind. So, if you didn’t ask and I didn’t ask, why the sudden change of plans? If I didn’t know any better, I would think Regina’s trying to sabotage your show.” She laughed, shaking the idea out of her head, but beside her, Rum lowered his sandwich. 

“Sabotage?”

“I was kidding,” Belle said, handing him the coffee. “Drink some more, you look pale.”

He didn’t take it, but stared into the distance. “Sabotage.”

Belle moved a little closer to him, putting a hand on his forehead to check. “Rum? Rum, you feeling okay?”

He laughed. “Oh, that diabolical little witch!” he said, standing suddenly. “She’s smarter than I gave her credit for!”

Belle felt like she was missing something. “What are you talking about?” she asked him, as he moved to his computer, sandwich still in hand. “Rum!”

“Belle, what do you know about SB101?” he asked, looking feverish as she sat down at his desk and began to type furiously. 

“Uh, started in 1921, been independently owned and operated - well that is until yesterday when Midas Radio Network brought us.”

Rum looked over at her sharply. “What?”

Belle nodded. “Had a producer’s meeting this afternoon,” Belle said, standing to come stand by him. “Check your email, Regina sent one out shortly afterwards.”

He hummed thoughtfully, turning back to the computer. He scanned the e-mail, Belle leaning down to read over his shoulder. The smell of whiskey lingered, but she ignored it. 

“Ah,” he said after a moment. “This all fits. She’s scrambling to cover her tracks.”

Belle put a hand on his chair and forcibly swung him around. He blinked up at her, and she leaned down, pointing a finger at his chest. “You tell me what’s going on right this minute, Rum Skinner, or so help me-”

He smiled up at her. “Regina’s trying to tank Night Air so she has an excuse to explain the sudden drop in revenue.”

“What sudden drop in revenue?”

“The one that’s going to happen as soon as Midas Network comes into play,” he said. “She’s been cooking the books for months, years possibly, trying to make herself look good and lining her pockets in the meantime. She’s gotten away with it too, until now.”

Belle gaped at him. “You can’t just accuse someone of embezzlement!’ she hissed, looking towards the door. 

He fumbled for the papers Jefferson had given him last night, forgotten in his petty jealousy from the night before. “Here,” he said, pointing at the circled areas. “These names under talent, William Tell, Gene E.- they don’t exist.”

“Where did you get this?” Belle asked, skimming through the papers. “These are payroll documents!”

“My agent,” Rum said with a shrug. “Who knows how he got his hands on them, but the point is, you were right. It’s sabotage, pure and simple!”

Belle lowered the papers. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why your show? Why not all the shows?”

“Too obvious,” Rum said with a shrug. His eyes were bright, and he took another large bite out of his sandwich. Belle wordlessly handed him her coffee, and he took a large gulp, wincing at the sweetness. “What is this?”

“Vanilla Latte,” Belle said, taking it back from him. “I don’t like black coffee.”

He shook his head, and finished his sandwich in two bites. “She’s trying to get me to quit,” he said with a low chuckle. “Well, it won’t work.”

Things started to click into place, and Belle was equally horrified and outraged. “Regina told us today she’s going to manage Night Air, since there isn’t any full time producer. She’s not only tying to get you to quit, she’s trying to frame you!” Belle was growing quickly indignant as the caffeine, stress and uncertainty of the last twenty four hours hit her all at once. “Well, she’s not going to get away with it,” Belle said, fingers curling over her coffee. “I won’t let her.”

Rum stared at her, looking slightly impressed. 

“Well?” Belle said, standing. “Are you going to just sit there or are you going to help?”

“Help?” he said. “I’m going to turn her into the authorities.”

“With what?” Belle asked. “Those questionably attained documents? She’ll pin it on you in a heartbeat. We need proof. We need time. We need to beat her at her own game.”

“What are you saying?”

Belle smiled. “It’s time for Night Air’s wizard of the airwaves to do some magic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miscommunication cleared up, plot advanced, and small lingering touches. Hope y'all enjoyed!


	7. Chapter 7

Judging by David Nolan’s face, the plan was working.

Rum let his hair fall forward, hiding his smirk as he bent down to the microphone. “That’s right listeners, in honor of my engagement, we here at SB101 want to invite you to enter our True Love contest. A lucky fan will be chosen each week up until my wedding to come sit in on my radio show.”

David had recovered enough to start fielding the calls pouring in, and Rum wrapped the segment up, letting listeners know how to register, restrictions and guidelines before starting his programmed set of music.

He leaned back, enjoying the soothing jazz that filled the small sound booth as David pulled the phone away from his ear as someone supposedly began yelling. Rum savored the small victory, and hoped Belle had been as pleased with his performance. After all, it had been her idea.

Regina’s ploy to get him to quit had clever, but not nearly as clever as Belle’s. His more rabid fan base, the Dearies as they called themselves, had always been clear that their interests in him lied in a more...intimate sense. Regina had hoped to leverage those desires by placing a crazed fan inches away from him, and wait for him to break.

But by going public with his typically highly private personal life, Belle had given Regina’s little scheme a shelf life. His sudden engagement would hopefully make some rabid fans mad enough to quit listening altogether, while buying them both some time to dig up some more dirt on Regina’s activities.

The phone’s lines were all lit up red, blinking angrily as David tried his best to juggle them all. With curiosity getting the best of him, Rum googled his show, and his eyebrows shot upwards at the immediate news displays heralding his seconds old announcement. Most were speculating about the mystery woman, while others were focusing on the contest.

The rest of the show went smoothly, for him at least. David looked a wreck by the time he pulled his earphones off and thrust them into a sympathetic Marian’s hands. Rum lingered outside the booth, waiting for him as Robin and Little John settled in for their show. Both shot him curious glances. News traveled fast.

“A little warning might have been nice,” David sighed, joining him in the hallway. He rubbed the back of his neck as they began to walk. “A few of those women were besides themselves. I don’t know how you do it but you should write books.” Rum shrugged nonchalantly and David shot him a shrewd glance. “What was all that about, anyway?” he asked. “You’re not actually engaged...are you?”

Rum snorted. “I said I was, didn’t I? Why would I lie on public radio?”

Before David could reply, Regina stepped out of Rum’s office. Her arms were crossed and if looks could kill, Rum wouldn’t have to worry about the contest regardless. “A word, Mr. Skinner,” she said curtly, and without waiting, turned and disappeared back into his office.

David said a hasty goodbye and beat a retreat, no doubt heading straight to Ms. Blanchard’s abode to discuss the evening. Those two’s secret affair was the worst kept secret in the studio.  
Rum lingered for a moment. Belle was waiting at the cafe around the corner after the show, to discuss how the next steps. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take too long.

“Regina,” Rum greeted, settling down at his desk without looking at her. He began to go through his emails, noticing one from Jefferson and a few from unknown senders who he suspected might be fans who somehow figured out his email address judging by the subject lines. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Two meetings in two days?”

“You bastard,” Regina seethed, her lips curled in a snarl. “What was that all about?”

He looked over at her and lifted a lazy brow. “Such language.”

“What’s this engagement bullshit?” she ground out. “Our social pages have been flooded with everything from congratulations to death threats.”

He allowed himself a small smile. “Well, that’s wonderful news,” he replied. “After all, there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

“Can it,” Regina snapped. “Who’s going to want to enter a contest to watch an engaged man spin records on love and commitment?”

“You didn’t like the show tonight?” he asked, making a face of concern. “I thought True Love was fitting for such a joyous announcement.”

Regina’s fingernails dug deeper into her biceps as she glared at him from across the expanse of desk. “Who’s the lucky bride?” she said after a brief pause.

He glanced at the newest email that had dinged in, one with very colorful language about what the sender would do if they ever found out who his bride was. He resisted the shudder, and pretended to look thoughtful. “I’d rather not say,” he said with a small twitch of his lips. “She’s not one for the limelight.”

His cellphone, which he had left on his desk to charge after his afternoon binge drinking, lit up just at that moment. Regina’s eyes plummeted to it, and her face lit up with a cruel pleasure as Belle’s name registered on the screen.

Internally cursing, Rum resisted the urge to flip it over. The damage was already done.

“So,” Regina purred, sitting back in her seat. “You two hit it off, after all.”

Rum shrugged a shoulder. “You could say that.”

Regina’s eyes gleamed in triumph. “Does Belle know your soon to be wife?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but his phone lit up once again, a text this time. Regina was quicker than he was, and craned her neck to read the message before he could grab it.

“‘Where are you? I’m waiting’?” Regina read, her grin growing larger. “My, my, you really hit it off.” Her glance went to the clock. “Why would Ms. French be waiting for you at this hour of the night, Skinner? Especially when she has to be up in a few hours?”

“We have plans.”

“Plans?” Regina said, doing a credible imitation of his own brow raise. “How does your fiancé feel about this?”

His mouth went dry. He hadn’t dated in years, not since his divorce, and he had been married for over seven years before that. His mind did some quick thinking but before it could come to a reasonable answer, his mouth blew it. “She _is_ my fiancé.”

\--

By the time, Rum arrived at the cafe, he was almost an hour late.

“What took you?” Belle asked, before waving a hand. “Never mind. It went perfectly! You were actually trending in Storybrooke! The tweets alone! Everyone bought it, and there’s even a board dedicated to discovering your mystery fiancé!” She laughed, exhilarated by the success of her plan. She had thought it rather good, but judging by the reaction of Rum’s fan base, it had been better than she had even dreamed. “Your fan club is even calling for a boycott of the contest!”

Rum smiled weakly, but his shoulders were tight. Belle nudged his cup of tea towards him. “It’s a bit cold,” she said in way of apology. “Let’s ask the waitress for a new pot.”

She turned to look for the waitress but the feeling of his hand clasping over her’s stilled her. She turned back, a bit embarrassed by the way her face was flushing and the silly way her heart had started racing but Rum did not look like he was in the mood to celebrate.

“Belle, I...I should tell you something.”

“Can it wait?” Belle asked, leaning slightly forward. He smelled like whiskey still, and she knew she looked a wreck, having been up for almost twenty four hours at this point, but something drew her closer to him. “We really ought to discuss next steps...”

“About that…”

A sudden flash went off outside the window of the usual quiet little cafe, and Belle blinked in surprise, raising her free hand to shield her eyes. Outside, a photographer snapped another quick photo through the window, but scampered away as the owner of the cafe hurried towards the door.

“What was all that about?” she asked, shaking her head to dispel the bright white spots.

“I gather he’s about to leak the identity of my fiancé,” Rum mumbled in embarrassment.

“But you don’t actually have a fiancé, we made her up…”

When he grimaced in apology, Belle looked down at where Rum’s hand still covered her’s, to the singular rose centerpiece of the cafe, and the cute but romantic teacups before them, and her mouth went a small o of understanding.

Rum nodded miserably. “Surprise,” he said weakly.

\--

 “There she is!” Will boomed, wrapping her in a hug. “Congrats, my beauty!”

“Thank you,” Belle replied, though her voice was muffled as her face was pressed into Will’s chest.

“Talk about a whirlwind romance,” Will said, releasing her to plop down into his seat. “What was that, three days?”

“Well...when you know, you know,” Belle stammered. Before Will could ask any more questions, she headed to the safety of her booth, slipping on her earphones.

The news had broken at midnight. The picture of her and Rum at the cafe had been splashed online, along with her name, hometown, and her college GPA. She had been too exhausted to stay awake to watch it unfold, but her dreams had been twisted and stressful and when she woke up, she felt like she hadn’t even slept at all.

Her social pages were flooded with nasty comments. Trolls, trolls, and more trolls had found even her Goodreads profile, and left some particularly nasty comments on there as well. She had switched her phone to off, after calling her father and leaving him a voicemail begging him not to talk to anyone. He was a well meaning man, but Maurice French tended to speak without thinking.

Will had started his morning greeting, chatting casually about his evening which apparently had included a game of cards, a playboy bunny, and a game of strip croquet. Belle didn’t get too listen to it, as the phone lines began to heat up.

No one usually called this early in the morning, except requests, so Belle was not prepared for the first caller. “SB101, this is the Morning Show. How can I help you?”

“You can go back to where you came from, slut!” someone hissed before hanging up.

Confused, Belle hurried to the next line. What had that been about? “Morning Show, how’s your morning?”

“Better than your’s is going to be,” a woman chuckled. “You better watch your back, Belle.”

Belle blinked, and hurriedly hung the phone up. It didn’t matter, all the other lines were red now, and Will was looking at her in confusion as his own phone lit up as well. She gestured for him to ignore it, and with a deep breath picked up the phone once more.

“Morning-”

“Bitch!”

The entire morning was one call after another. She left Will in the dark, but she noticed he did not announce a contest for the day. For her part, Belle gritted her teeth, and answered every call she could within the four hour program, letting the phone fall away from her ear the second a nasty voice started hissing at her.

“Thanks again for listening, stay tuned for the foxy Little Red and her all request show, coming up after this break.”

Belle ripped her headphones off, and let them clatter to the desk as she put her hands to her face. Tears were threatening, from exhaustion, stress, and humiliation and who knew what else but she nearly jumped a foot in the air when a hand descended on her shoulder.

She looked up to find Leroy standing there, and behind him, Ruby and Will.

“Sorry, sister,” Leroy mumbled gruffly. “We just heard about it.”

“Heard about what?” Belle said weakly, trying to blink away the tears in her eyes before they could fall.

Leroy turned to Ruby, who pushed past him to unplug the still ringing phone before striding back into the booth. Will lingered, looking lost but concerned, as Leroy gently nudged her off to reset a few levels. Belle tried to stand, but he shook his head. “Hold your horses,” he said gently, and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Listeners, this is Little Red. Due to an issue with our phone lines this morning, this all request show will be through my personal twitter today. Tweet me what you want to hear, and I’ll spin it!”

Belle reached for her phone, but Will seemed to have caught on. He grabbed it out of her hand, and slipped it into his pocket, earning a nod from Leroy. “I can handle it,” Belle said, standing and glowering at her show host. She held out a slightly shaking hand. “Hand it over, William Scarlet.”

He ignored her, scrolling through his own phone with a look of growing horror. “Jesus H. Roosevelt,” he muttered darkly. “This is…”

“Sick,” Ruby added, her voice cutting through into the booth. She had switched her mic over to the booth channel as music began to play on the radio. “Yea, well the president of the Night Air Dearies encouraged her whole club to join in this morning. They want Belle fired, for fraternizing with her talent and if that fails, they plan to harass you until you quit.”

Belle saw red, and not just the bright red dress Ruby was wearing. “Well, it won’t work,” she said, lifting her jaw. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good for you,” Will said, slapping her on the back. “That’s my girl.”

“I’m not your girl, Will,” Belle said, “though I appreciate your support.”

“No, she’s Skinner’s girl,” Leroy said with a bit of a grin. “Best get your hands off, he don’t like to share.”

Will’s hand disappeared, while Belle flushed at the mere mention she was Skinner’s girl.

“Speaking of,” Will said, fishing her ringing phone out of his pocket as if it was about to explode. The name Rum Skinner displayed for everyone to see, and Belle snatched it out of the air.

“I have to take this,” she said, and with Ruby’s okay, hurried through the broadcasting room to the hallway. Luckily, Will stayed behind to watch Ruby’s session, which allowed Belle to slip into Skinner’s dark office.

“Belle,” Rum said in relief, once she called him back. “Jefferson just called me.”

“Oh?” Belle said, sinking down on the couch. Her head was ringing with slurs, curses and threats, and only the soft sound of Rum’s voice was keeping her together at the moment.

“You don’t have to be brave for me,” he said softly. “I’ve made a public announcement via Jefferson about the entire thing.”

Belle sat upright. “You called it off?”

“No!” he said, sounding just as startled. “Should I have? I can call him back right now and-”

Belle’s chest lightened ever so slightly. “No, no,” she hurried to tell him. “What was the announcement then?”

He coughed slightly, sounding a bit nervous. “Along the lines that if a person is harassing the woman I love they aren’t truly fans. Can’t threaten much really, not if we are going to continue the plan.”

“Of course, we’re going to continue,” Belle said, and found to her surprise, her resolve was strengthened. “Regina may have sicced your fan club on me, but she’s going to learn I’m not damsel in distress.”

“Belle, I’m truly sorry,” Rum sighed. “This is...this is all my fault-”

“Nonsense,” Belle said. “It’ll be fine. I just have a larger role to play than we originally planned is all. I can pretend to be your fiancé for a bit.” There was an odd silence on the other end of the phone as if he was waiting for her to finish. “Besides, I could do worse than Rum Skinner of Night Air,” she teased softly.

He gave a soft chuckle. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said but tactfully dropped it. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

Belle sighed. “Not much,” she admitted. “I’m going to have to get a cab back to my apartment, I’m barely keeping my eyes open as is.”

“Are you in my office?” he asked.

“You caught me,” Belle chuckled. “My cubicle isn’t nearly as nice.”

“Take a nap there,” he offered. “I’m out of whiskey but there’s some vodka in the desk drawer.”

Belle laughed, but kicked off her shoes as she snuggled down to where Rum had slept off his drinks yesterday. The leather couch still smelled like him, and her body relaxed on it’s own accord. “Rum?”

“Yes?”

“Would you...would you mind talking with me until I fall asleep?” Belle asked through a yawn. “It’s just...I had the worst morning and I-”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “Anything.”

Belle smiled as her eyes drifted close. She rather liked the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, well the misunderstanding trope is one thing, but fake dating? Who doesn't love that?'


	8. Chapter 8

Closing Rum’s office door behind her, Belle said a quick prayer to get out of the station before someone caught her. It was nearly late afternoon which meant the whole station probably knew by now, despite her still only knowing a total of ten people who worked here.

“Ms. French.” Belle froze. Ten feet away, Regina Mills was leaning against the corner, smiling smugly. “I was hoping to catch you after your show this morning, but Mr. Scarlett told me you had run off.”

“Just had to take care of a few things,” Belle lied, smoothing her hair down from where she had lain on it. 

“In Mr. Skinner’s office?” Regina asked, not moving an inch. “Is your desk not satisfactory?”

Belle’s cheeks flushed in displeasure, but she forced a smile on her face regardless. “I was just on my way out,” she said. “Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, actually,” Regina replied, standing up from the wall. “I wanted to say congratulations on your engagement.”

Belle swallowed. “Yes, thank you. We’re both very...happy.”

“Oh?” Regina continued, starting towards her. “Well, I confess, I’m very curious as to how two total strangers met and fell in love within the span of what was it? Seventy two hours?”

She had a point. Who married a man they had just met? 

Belle had made the same comment to Rum just last night. They had spent some time talking last night, about her family and her hatred of tomatoes, the last book she had read and the way she preferred her tea. He had shared about the loss of his son a few years ago and his bitter divorce, before he had invited her for dinner Saturday to see his home, a large salmon victorian on the edge of town. 

They got on well. Time just flew whenever she was with him. She was a bit embarrassed to admit her initial respect and admiration for the man had quickly spiraled into a crush, which was now complicated by the fact that she was supposed to be madly in love with him. Add the sudden harassment of his fans, a studio manager that was up to no good, and a lack of sleep. Belle had no idea how she had gotten herself into this situation. 

“Well, we…,” Belle stalled, casting about for something professional to say that wouldn’t tip Regina off that the whole thing was a scam. “The thing is-”

“When you know, you know.”

An arm circled her waist, and Belle suddenly found herself pressed against Rum himself, who was smiling at her as if he truly was in love with her. Belle’s brain made a brief screeching noise and then shut off entirely as her entire body went boneless in delight. His brown eyes were earnest, and his lips were twisted in a fond smirk. 

Belle didn’t know what possessed her, but she leaned forward to kiss him. She hadn’t expected anything, so she was pleasantly surprised when his lips instantly melded to hers. He let out a small gruff noise of male satisfaction, and his hand on her hip tightened slightly, pressing her closer to him. Belle let her head tilt back, and her mouth fall open enough to taste his bottom lip.

“I’m still here, you know,” Regina said curtly, and Belle pulled away, just in time to giggle nervously. Rum didn’t move, still staring down at her, a dreamy sort of haze on his face. Belle felt a tightening in her stomach, wanting very much to see what other noises and looks she could draw from him in private.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Rum offered, gently guiding Belle away from Regina. “Your place or mine later?”

They left Regina glowering in the middle of the hall, but Belle didn’t release the breath she had been holding until they exited the building. It was overcast outside, and the wind had a bit of a chill to it, but Belle barely noticed. Rum still had his hand on her lower back, and it was spreading weird little tingles all over her body.

As soon as they were past the building, Rum dropped his hand away and awkwardly cleared his throat. “Belle, I-”

Belle didn’t wait to hear what else he had to say. She reached up and placed her hands on his shoulders, tilting her head up in silent invitation. Her heart was beating rather loudly, but she kept his gaze boldly. He hesitated for a moment, before dipping down to press another lingering kiss to her lips. 

As his arms encircled her, and he moved to deepen the kiss, Belle thought if he kept kissing her like this, perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard to convince people after all.

\--

He had kissed Belle French.

No, not kissed, had made out with her in a parking lot at his place of business like a randy teenager.

His initial attraction to her had been compounded by her bravery, boldness, and intelligence. He had assumed her to be a naive mouse, and instead found a fiery lioness. 

And a phenomenal kisser.

He coughed, and adjusted his legs as his body responded enthusiastically to the memory of her in his arms. This entire thing was spiraling out of control. In the span of four days, he had gotten a new producer, lost her, uncovered shady business dealings, and gained a fiancé. 

His show started in little more than an hour, but all he could do was sit here in his office and think about what that little moment in the parking lot had meant. There had been no one to fool out there in the afternoon air, and they had only parted when he had backed her up against his own ancient cadillac, and into the door handle. She had laughed, assuring him she was fine but he had been so embarrassed she had kissed him again just to convince him otherwise.

A knock on his door startled him out of his thoughts, and David Nolan cracked the door open slightly. “Hey, Skinner,” he greeted. “You have a minute?”

“David?” Rum said, looking at the clock. “Isn’t Mary Margaret on?”

David nodded, coming in and closing the door behind him. “The intern’s at the board,” he told him. “He did a great job with Mal’s show the other day, so I invited him to sit on our show today and tomorrow. If it’s okay with you, I might have him join us in the booth for your show as well, give him a taste of a short format.”

Rum nodded idly. “I would prefer you to run the show,” he amended, and David nodded in agreement. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something before the show tonight. Give you a head’s up.”

“A head’s up?”

David nodded. “A little bird told Mary Margaret that the winner for the contest next week has already been selected.”

Rum lifted a brow in skepticism. “A winner won’t be drawn until tomorrow at the end of the show.”

“Yea,” David said, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s been a slight change of plans. You know, Regina’s sister, right?”

Rum shook his head. “Selena would not qualify as a contestant. She’s a family member of an employee here. It’s against the bylaws.”

“Yea, that’s the thing. She’s not entered in the contest, she’s running the contest.”  
Rum stared at him. “You mean?”

David nodded. “Human Resources will be sending out an email tomorrow. As of this afternoon, the newest member of SB101 is Selena Mills, our new Promotions Manager.”

“Who in Hades hired that woman to do anything?” Rum growled. “She’s- she’s-!”

“Regina’s sister,” David finished. “Well, half-sister, but still. It’s just Regina playing the last of her power tricks before Midas comes in next week and changes everything anyways. Don’t worry, you just have to put up with her on Friday evenings. You don’t even come in until seven most nights.”

True, but Belle was here during the mornings, and if he knew Selena, she wouldn’t hesitate to make Belle’s life a living hell. The fiery redhead half sibling of their studio manager was going to be another wrinkle in the already convoluted scheme to expose Regina. 

“Thanks for letting me know,” Rum said after a moment. “Is there anything else?”

“Yea,” David said, nodding seriously. “You and Belle? What’s that all about?”

“None of your business, Nolan,” Rum said frostily. “Unless you’d like me to ask about your relationship with Ms. Blanchard?”

David held his hands up. “Nothing in the rule book about dating coworkers,” he reminded him. “It’s just...Belle started here Monday, got moved off your show by Tuesday, and engaged to you Thursday. It’s a little unusual, don’t you agree?”

“David,” Rum said, standing from behind his desk. “A woman walked into my life, one with brains, beauty, and determination. I did what any sane man would do in my situation.”

“Asked her out to dinner?”

“Got down on one knee and asked her to marry me,” Rum finished, ignoring David’s amused expression. “I’d advise you to perhaps think of doing the same. Ms. Blanchard isn’t going to wait forever, you know.”

David nodded, and stood as well. “And what makes you think I haven’t already?”

Before Rum could respond, David was pulling open the door. “I’ll see you in a bit, Skinner,” he said, flicking a finger from his forehead with a wink. “What’s the theme tonight, if I might ask?”

“Intimacy,” Rum told him, and had the pleasure of seeing David Nolan’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

\--

By the time Rum’s show was over, Belle was a mess of hormones.

She had always known why he was the number one night radio show in the country, but after tonight, she completely understood why. His show tonight had been pitch perfect. His tone had hit a new level of low, a growling purr that had sent shivers up her spine the minute she had clicked the radio on, too nervous about tomorrow to sleep. 

It had probably been a mistake, she thought, to listen to him while in bed, after their interlude in the parking lot this afternoon. His every song choice spoke directly to her, his rough rasping chuckle lighting fires in her belly, and the memory of his mouth still lingering on her lips. 

She was now too wired to sleep for a completely different reason, but she flopped over on her stomach and tried to ignore the ache between her thighs. 

Luckily, fate seemed to have pity on her. Right as she was about to decide to take matters into her own hands, her phone lit up. Her breath caught her throat, and she rolled over, half hoping, half expecting it to be Rum. 

Her desire disappeared entirely when she saw her father’s name and smiling face. Instant panic set in at the thought of why he might be calling so late. “Papa!” she exclaimed, sliding to accept the call. “Is everything okay?”

“Sweetheart!” he boomed, sounding completely healthy. “Just calling to see how my little girl is doing in the big city!”

Belle checked the clock, and groaned. It might be nearly midnight here, but back home it was still early. “Papa,” she sighed. “It’s late here, remember the time difference?”

“Oh,” he said, and the sound of him scratching his head made her smile. “Never can remember what the difference is.”

“Three hours,” Belle said gently, laying back down in the pillows. “Remember, I’m on the morning show now? I texted you about it yesterday?”

“You also texted me not to talk to anyone about you, and never called me to explain why,” he reminded her. “I just got off the phone with some lady from Dearies Weekly, some online magazine. What did she call it? A vine?”

“A zine,” Belle sighed. “Did you tell her anything?”

“Course not,” he replied. “I talked about my latest invention until she got bored. No one has any interest in the technical aspects, all they want is the final product.”

Belle stifled a yawn. “Papa, I’m sorry I haven’t called, life’s been...crazy.”

“I’ll say,” he grunted. “You’re engaged to that fellow you went off to work for? Is that even legal?”

“I’m actually on the Morning Show now,” Belle repeated. “And I promise I’ll explain more later, but I’m fine. I promise.”

“Ah, right. Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy for you, baby,” her father said proudly. “Besides, when you know, you know! Did I ever tell you about how your mother and I met?”

Belle smiled fondly. Trust her Papa not to care two figs about the how or the why, he was just happy if she was happy. “Yes, you have, but tell me again.’

“Well, it was a beautiful clear day in the fall, and I had just finished my latest science fair project…”

As her father waxed poetic about the love of his life, Belle half listened. She knew the story by heart but still loved it enough to hear it once more. The other part of her mind was planning on how exactly she was going to get into the accounting department undetected tomorrow, while another part of her was wondering when she would get to see Rum again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw! A Face for Radio hit 100 Kudos! 
> 
> Have some dorks kissing in celebration!


End file.
